


Bound by Fate (and Choice)

by ReminiscentRevelry



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22948588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReminiscentRevelry/pseuds/ReminiscentRevelry
Summary: As common as soul marks were, they weren’t well understood. No one knew where they came from or how they were determined, but a few things had become clear throughout history.Every person had a soul mark over their heart that signified their own soul. The colors varied from person to person, and a colored soul mark elsewhere on your body meant that person was your romantic soulmate. A black mark was indicative of a parent-child soul bond and a white mark was a platonic bond. The marks would appear when the younger person was born, and some faded over time or disappeared or scarred upon death, but most stayed.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 19
Kudos: 320





	Bound by Fate (and Choice)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [any version of us (would end up here)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20195797) by [Phoenix_of_Athena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena/pseuds/Phoenix_of_Athena). 



As common as soul marks were, they weren’t well understood. No one knew where they came from or how they were determined, but a few things had become clear throughout history.

Every person had a soul mark over their heart that signified their own soul. The colors varied from person to person, and a colored soul mark elsewhere on your body meant that person was your romantic soulmate. A black mark was indicative of a parent-child soul bond and a white mark was a platonic bond. The marks would appear when the younger person was born, and some faded over time or disappeared or scarred upon death, but most stayed.

Roy Mustang knew his own soul mark well, a red salamander. He’d stared at it for long enough that he could draw it with his eyes closed. The others were points of wonder for him as he grew up, lined neatly on his left forearm.

First was the white mark at the base of his wrist, shaped like the symbol for Mercury. He didn’t have a name for it until he was in school and found a book on alchemy. Reading about the symbol - it’s representation of both a metal and the mind - he wondered if the person it belonged to was an alchemist, like he wanted to be. He wondered why his own symbol wasn’t alchemical in nature but pushed the thought away as he studied. The knowledge of alchemy, the potential it had to do good lit a fire in him that he refused to let go out.

The blue eye in a feather just below it showed up when he was four. He’d been playing behind his Aunt’s bar, lining up chess pieces like an army when he felt a tingling on his arm. His sisters had cooed at it, telling him that was the person he’d spend his life with once he found them. He didn’t understand it at the time, the weight of a soul bond. He just wondered what they’d be like and if they thought his mark was as cool as theirs.

When he was fourteen and studying under Berthold Hawkeye, his third mark showed up. It burned his arm and made him yelp, startling Riza from her studies. She hadn’t asked him about his soul marks - it wasn’t considered proper to inquire after such a personal matter - but seeing Roy state in such horror at his arm she had to ask if he was okay.

“I’ve got a soul child?” he whispered, staring at the black stylized sun. “Riza, I can’t have a soul child, I’m not old enough to be a parent!”

She looked at the mark, raising an eyebrow momentarily when she saw his blue one just above it before shrugging and hugging her book to her chest. She could recognize it as an alchemic symbol for gold, though it wasn’t as commonly used as the one that was a circle with a dot in the center.

“I read that sometimes it’s not necessarily a parent-child bond,” she said carefully, “but something like a mentor, sometimes. Maybe you’ll take on an apprentice someday.”

He nodded, his panic dissipating as he considered her words.

“I bet they’re gonna be cool, though,” he said after a moment. “If they’re bonded with me, they have to be cool.”

She rolled her eyes and went back to her book, pretending her heart wasn’t fluttering in her chest as she thought about her own mark of an eye in a feather over her heart, the red salamander on her shoulder.

A year and a half later, he practically broke down the door to the kitchen to show her the second black mark on his arm, the alchemic symbol for platinum. He was certain they’d be alchemy students and threw himself further into his studies, and Riza wondered if she’d ever get the nerve to tell him that he was her match.

At the academy he kept a sleeve over his soul marks, hiding them from the other cadets and teachers. It wasn’t their business, who he was bonded to. He’d never tell anyone, but he was bothered that he hadn’t found any of them. Almost two decades and not one had shown up.

Secretly, he wished Riza was one. It would give him an excuse to stay in contact with her despite her father’s disapproval of him joining the military. As much as he’d joke and flirt, he didn’t care if it was romantic like his sisters had insisted - he just wanted someone he could trust without fail and Riza had always been a good friend.

One day when they’re sparring Hughes managed to move his sleeve and catch sight of his marks. He didn't say anything when Roy covered them back up, but once they reached their dorm, he rolled up his sock to show Roy the marks on his ankle. There, stark white against Hughes’ tanned skin, was his own salamander.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw it and for a second he was frozen before he punched Hughes in the arm.

 _At least,_ he thought, _we’re already friends._

When he went back to the Hawkeye estate to ask his former teacher one more time for his research, he’s shocked to find out it was tattooed onto Riza’s back, and the shock deepened when he saw his red salamander set into her shoulder.

She’d seen his marks, back when they were young and the first black mark appeared, but she’d said nothing. Now, here, with her father in the grave and his research on her back, he felt his heart pull when he can’t tear his eyes away from the salamander.

She caught his eye and he broke, hugging her from behind with his forehead in the crook of her neck. She gasped lightly and didn't move for a second before relaxing into him, her head on top of his.

It was a strange few weeks while he decoded the research. They fell into a similar routine to when he was studying under her father, though she didn’t have her own studies this time around. He took breaks to tell her about Hughes and the academy and the news he’d gotten from other soldiers stationed in Ishval. She cooked and told him about the changes in town, the things that had happened while he was away.

When he cracked the code he used the knowledge to get his certification. They sent him to the front lines immediately and he left her with a promise that he’d come back.

Three years later he met her again in the desert and his heart broke when he sees that she, like Hughes, had the haunted eyes of a killer.

They made a deadly unit when they work together, him and Riza and Hughes. It’s rare, but they stuck as close together as they can, unwilling to let each other go again. Riza watched their backs, Hughes came up with perfect plans, and Roy wiped through every target with his alchemy.

The carnage of Ishval filled his dreams and he wakes up screaming from nightmares that they’ve been killed, seeing their lifeless eyes and burnt bodies in the sand until he opens his eyes and sees Hughes in his bedroll a few paces away and Riza sitting up with her rifle wrapped up and leant against her shoulder. She’d wake up and make space for him to sit beside her, keeping watch as he fell asleep with his head on her shoulder.

It’s easier when the war is over and they’re in the same unit. She’s strictly professional and he mirrors it, their personal relationship taking a back seat as he realizes his ambitions and she backs them without question. He trusts her without worry and she does the same. However haunted they were by Ishval, some days she still sees the optimistic boy her father had taught, and he sees the quiet young girl who humored his bad jokes.

Frequently one of them would take paperwork home and the other would drop by with takeout to help. The personal came out over the tea they drink after dinner and they both wonder how Hughes can manage with Gracia when she doesn’t share the trauma from Ishval.

When they fall asleep with the curtains drawn, Roy’s arms around her waist to hold her close, they realize the nightmares aren’t as bad when they’re together.

He’s twenty-six when Riza put a file on his desk from Grumman. Rumor of a pair of alchemist brothers in Resembool, a sleepy town close to Ishval. They packed their bags for a few days trip and head south, where the townsfolk recognized the name Elric and pointed them toward the house, though only one had the forethought to tell them their information was incorrect - the brothers are ten and eleven, not in their thirties, though they do study alchemy.

They head to the house anyway and find an abomination on a blood-soaked floor with a marred transmutation circle and notes on Human Transmutation in the corner.

The brothers are found at the Rockbell household and Roy brushed past the elderly woman to the broken boy in a wheelchair, demanding answers the child can’t bring himself to give. Then the suit of armor - he’d thought nothing of it, there was an automail sign outside the house and automail engineers can be a weird sort - _moved_ and his heart sank as he realized, _oh, no, please, no._

Human Transmutation was one thing but bonding a soul to armor was another. It would have been easier if the attempt had killed both of them, Roy realized as he assessed his choices.

Turn them in for breaking the taboo - they were children, Ed would be imprisoned for life and Al would be made a test subject. Not an option.

Leave them to their own devices in Resembool - they might try more dangerous transmutations and get themselves killed or worse. The people in town knew Al was ten and shouldn’t be able to move a seven foot suit of armor, word would spread, they’d be locked up, and Roy and Riza would come under fire for not reporting it. Not an option.

Suggest the State Alchemist program - offer them a purpose, an inkling of hope that they could return to normalcy, and let them chase it. They were capable enough to survive Human Transmutation - Ed had successfully bonded a _disembodied soul_ to a suit of armor while bleeding out from a missing limb, the State Alchemist exam would be child’s play in comparison.

He considered Ishval for a second, the atrocities that had happened, but pushed it away - the war was over and _if_ Ed took the chance, _if_ he was certified, they weren’t at war. Skirmishes weren’t the same as genocide and since he found Ed, he’d be his commanding officer. He could keep him from the worse parts of the military. 

Riza guessed his reasoning on the train back to East City and told him it was the best option of all the bad options available. It made him feel slightly better, hearing her say it, but it still makes his stomach turn, thinking of children on a battlefield.

Ed showed up at the exams a year later with two steel limbs and an arrogant attitude. Roy knew that automail surgery typically takes three years and moaned to Riza over tea and takeout that Ed’s going to be a nightmare after he tells her about the practical, where he transmuted without a circle and threatened the Fuhrer.

“He’s twelve,” he said, burying his face in his hands. “God, Riza, he’s _twelve.”_

She pulled a hand away from his face and twined her fingers into his. “At least,” she said, “you won’t be the youngest anymore.”

He groaned at the thought. He knew the things said about him - upstart, young punk, overgrown child. He was at least ten years younger than most other his rank, and Hughes was the only one his age above a Captain. Finding Ed had promoted him and Riza, but he feared the fall that came with climbing so fast. He didn’t have many friends, despite the trust the Eastern soldiers put in him.

It’s frustrating, at first, figuring out how to work with Ed. He’s a wild card, prone to acting on his own most of the time. Roy expected him to be a loose cannon and hesitated before taking him into the field but he’s surprised that Ed listened to his orders and followed them when they’re busting a drug ring. It takes some time but they figure out their rapport after Ed starts dragging Al onto his cases, his brother filling in the sparse reports Ed kept bringing him, balancing out Ed’s abrasive nature with patience and rationality.

He doesn’t ask about their soul marks. It seems a sore subject with Al having lost his, but he wonders sometimes when Ed is looking at his metal hand like it’s an insult, if his marks had been on his arm.

He’d seen soldiers with thousand yard stares before. Riza and Hughes both had bad cases of it right after Ishval, but neither came close to Ed’s when Roy sees him alone in the hospital for the first time. Al was at the library and Ed clearly wasn’t expecting anyone to come in and Roy sees him facing the wall, eyes trained on one spot, but his head was elsewhere, miles away from the hospital room.

He saw Ed’s soul mark when they got trapped in a mine when Ed was thirteen. Ed’s panicked, his automail leg caught under the rocks that trapped them in the mineshaft, and Roy had to talk him down while the few miners stuck with them shift the rocks to free Ed’s leg. One of the miners had a cut and Ed tore his shirt - already ripped and falling apart - to tie it off and Roy saw the mark over his heart, the yellow stylized sun. It’s almost poignant, Ed with his golden hair and golden eyes having the alchemic symbol for gold as his soul mark.

He tossed Ed his coat to stay warm and said nothing to Ed, not thinking of it until they’re out of the mine and Riza’s making tea in his kitchen.

“It’s Ed,” he said, tapping the black sun on his arm when she comes out to the living room.

“I told you it could be a mentor relationship,” she replied simply as she hands him his tea. “You’ve never been one for conventional bonds, anyway.”

He raised an eyebrow as she leaned into him, her own mug between her hands. He sighed and threw an arm around her waist, nuzzling into her hair.

“I guess not,” he admits. “We’re not exactly romantic.”

“So long as we trust each other, I’m not sure romance matters.” She sipped her tea, smiling when he brushed a kiss against her cheek.

They didn’t do romance, gestures of flowers and dates and gifts. Sometimes they’d cook together, but most of their meals were cafeteria or takeout, their drinks tea and coffee, sometimes spiked when it was late and they had the next day off. They did, however, do gentle affection when they were alone. He would give her a gentle kiss on her cheek, her forehead, her lips. She’d lean against him until he opened his arms to let her slot herself against his side and take his hand to hold it in hers. Where her hands were calloused from holding guns, his were soft, protected by his gloves. Where the ignition cloth was rough, designed to catch itself and spark, the inner lining was smooth. It kept him from burning his hands but she could feel where he’d had mishaps with his fire, burn scars that had long since healed.

They didn’t spend many nights together. The fraternization laws hung over their heads like a guillotine and even a soul bond wouldn’t keep the military from reassigning them to separate units. They lived in the same apartment building and knew their neighbors’ habits and routines like their own and worked around them, keeping to themselves and keeping quiet at night. 

When Hughes died Roy dropped his phone and screamed, grabbing at his wrist when it burned. Riza shot to her feet and ran to him but she could only stare in shock as the mark shone and faded into a scar. He was panicked as he shouted into the phone, eyes going wide as the line clicked off and a dial tone filled his ears. 

He could understand what drove Ed and Al to try and bring back their mother when he heard Elicia crying, when he shed his own tears for Hughes, when he hugged Gracia after the funeral and she cried into his coat. If he didn’t know that it was impossible, he’d be inclined to try and bring Hughes back, but his mark is a scar now, a sure sign that Hughes is gone.

He and Riza spend the night with Gracia, falling asleep on the couch with cold cups of tea beside the photo albums spread across the table. Elicia fell asleep on Roy’s chest while looking through the photos of Ed and Al. Roy hadn’t known that Hughes had pictures of the boys and promised not to tell them until he was sure Ed wouldn’t try and burn the books. Some of the pictures were almost cute - Ed sat on Al’s shoulder to look over a crowd, Al surrounded by stray cats, Ed playing with Elicia, Ed and Elicia asleep on the couch.

They lived further apart in Central. Where Grumman would turn a blind eye, Central Command definitely would _not._ They stayed late in the office instead of taking work home, kept their interaction outside of work to the dinners Gracia invited them to. 

They stopped going to the dinners when the Fuhrer reassigned them. It was a matter of safety and they didn’t want Gracia and Elicia to be put in any danger. 

Over the years they’d figured out a number of codes, ways to send messages without anyone else picking up that their conversations had a deeper meaning. They kept their cafeteria conversations sparing to avoid further suspicion, left messages with Havoc when they visited him in the hospital, had infrequent phone calls to make sure the other was, at the very least, alive. They could read each other’s tones well enough to determine if there was an imminent threat coming up.

One day General Armstrong passed on the news that Edward Elric was declared a fugitive of the military and he’s furious that no one thought to tell him what happened in the north. Ed was _his_ subordinate and he’s shaking with fury when she - reluctantly - tells him what happened in Baschool. Kimblee’s report may have stated that Ed attacked him - a good excuse to make him an enemy of the state - but Roy knew that Ed wouldn’t have done so without reason, not while the Homunculi had Winry as a hostage.

“My men searched for him for ten days,” she said, “and found nothing. I hate to say it, but there’s a good chance he’s dead, Mustang.”

“He’s not,” Roy replied immediately, thinking of the mark on his arm. It hadn’t turned to a scar, hadn’t incapacitated him with pain, though he’d felt Al’s mark flicker with heat a few times. They were running out of time and he wished he knew where they were, wished he could give them more time.

She doesn’t question his surety. He’d lost enough to the Homunculi that she wouldn’t destroy his hope, however perilous she knew the north was. Hope was hard to hold on to and she wasn’t so cruel as to blow out the embers he was fanning.

The Promised Day came and when Hawkeye’s throat was cut by the leftover Fuhrer candidates he felt heat flare on her mark, reminiscent of Al and Hughes’. It heightened when he held her and it’s not until May stabilized her that it lessened. He breathed out in relief and hugged her, not caring for once that anyone could see them, could hear his words.

“We’ve been together long enough,” he said and she smiled at him, despite the gravity of their situation. 

Then Bradley and Pride force him through the Portal and Hawkeye screamed for him and he hoped she couldn’t feel the pain through her mark as he’s deconstructed. He’d felt a pull on his marks when Ed was deconstructed and guessed that Al had gone through the same thing - both marks had flared and he hoped Al was okay, wherever he was. 

It’s lucky, he thought, that Hawkeye was still able to fight. She didn’t hide her worry when she saw him - and really, the fact they hadn’t been court-martialed for their closeness was a miracle - but she knew he needed her eyes, her sniper abilities that let her tell him the range he needed, her understanding of his alchemy to tell him how to temper his flames. 

When the dust has settled and Marcoh restored his sight, the Elric brothers both came in to visit when his team had gone to get lunch. Al, frail and bright-eyed, looked at his arm and poked the black platinum symbol with a shaky finger.

“I _told_ you,” he said to Ed. “I _told_ you he was the salamander.”

Ed shrugged, looking at his own marks - and Roy was right, they’d been on his right arm. The black Flamel for their teacher, the black salamander for Roy, the white platinum symbol - he and Al were bound by more than just blood - and the silver gear that makes Roy think of Winry Rockbell and her dedication to automail.

“It’s not like it comes without effort,” Ed said, glancing at Hawkeye and the blue mark on Roy’s arm. “It’s our choice to build the relationships that matter.”

Al rolled his eyes and looked at Roy’s arm, gaze drifting to the scar by his wrist.

“Was that General Hughes?” Al asked quietly. 

Roy nodded. “Strangely, your brother is right,” he said. “Hughes and I were friends before we realized we shared our marks.”

“Is it true that you can feel it?” Al whispered. “When a soulmate dies?”

Roy nodded, reaching out to ruffle Al’s hair. “Like fire,” he murmured. “When you were in the north, your body was pulling on your soul, wasn’t it?”

Al nodded. “You could feel it?”

“I could feel it flicker,” he said, “like a candle. I knew you weren’t dead, though.”

“A mark turns to a scar when the person dies,” Ed said, braiding Riza’s hair. “Or it disappears.”

“It’s not just that,” Riza said. “You can feel a pull of sorts when they come close to dying.”

“Did you feel it when the Colonel was deconstructed?” Ed asked. Riza glared at him and he poked the salamander on her shoulder with a flat look. “You should cover that before you get angry at me for knowing.”

She’d taken off her sweater without thinking about it and Ed handed it back to her, looking at Roy combing his fingers through Al’s hair to work out the tangles. Al looked pleased at the gentle motion, leaning into the contact. 

Touch-starved, one of the doctors had said. It made sense, considering he hadn’t had a body in four years.

His hands still hurt from where Bradley had stabbed them but the doctors had been clear that using them was the best way to recover all his fine motor control, though he’d have scars from the wounds. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen and braiding hair was one of the easier ways he could use his hands. Riza and Al both seemed to welcome his playing with their hair, at least.

It was late at night, when he was letting Riza massage his hand, that he considered Ed’s words, that it was their choices that determined their relationships rather than their souls. He knew that Ed didn’t believe much in fate or destiny - or god, despite having met Truth three separate times.

 _Honestly, only Fullmetal could have two limbs and his brother taken from him by God and still be an atheist,_ he mused to himself. Though he wasn’t sure Truth was a god to be worshipped like Ishvala - they seemed more a keeper of knowledge than anything else. 

Ed had reluctantly explained to him how he’d gotten Al back, how he’d given up his Gate, his _alchemy_ for his brother. It was a shock to Roy that Ed, who had dedicated so much of his young life to alchemy, now couldn’t perform any transmutations anymore. Ed shrugged when Roy asked him how he was dealing with losing his alchemy.

“It was weird, but Truth seemed happy with my reasoning. They told me I’d given them the right answer, like it was a riddle.”

“And what was the answer?”

“Who needs alchemy,” Ed said, meeting his eyes evenly, “when I’ve got friends like these?”

Roy can’t think of a response and Ed’s eyes - golden like the sun that made his soul mark - are older than his sixteen years. He punched Roy’s shoulder lightly, holding his attention.

“I won’t ever say it again,” Ed said quietly, “but I am grateful for all you’ve done for us, you and the Lieutenant. You were there when we needed you, even if we didn’t deserve it.”

“You always deserved it,” Roy replied instantly. “I just wish we’d gotten to Resembool sooner.”

Ed shrugged again, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We were determined to get our mom back, foolish as that was,” he said simply. “Then we were lost, and you came in time to redirect our drive into determination to get ourselves back to normal. It was our choice, Colonel.”

“And it’s our choices that define us,” Roy murmured.

Ed patted his shoulder. “Now you’re getting it,” he whispered. He turned to the window, where he could see Al in a pool with the physical therapist, Izumi and Sig talking to him from the edge. “It was something Teacher told us when we asked about soul marks. She said fate could only take you so far. It’s your choices that determine your path and waiting for destiny to take charge won’t do you any good.”

“You knew we shared marks,” Roy said.

“I guessed when I saw your gloves,” Ed said. “You could have used the symbol for fire instead of an old mythical symbol, but you’re arrogant enough that putting your own symbol in your circle makes sense.”

“I’m not arrogant,” Roy snapped.

“And I don’t have a temper,” Ed retorted. He glances from Mustang to Al. “You’ll have to visit Al in Resembool. He cares about soul marks.”

“And you don’t?”

Ed shrugged again. “I care about the friends I have. If some of those relationships are soul bonds, that’s fine, but I don’t want them to be my only relationships.”

Roy glanced at Ed’s arm, the symbols lining from his wrist to his elbow - Al’s white platinum emblem, his own black salamander, Izumi’s black Flamel, the silver gear he assumed belonged to Winry. None were scars and Roy thought that Ed was lucky in that regard, that he’d met his soul mates so young and hadn’t lost any of them despite everything that had happened to him. (Though he’d certainly come very close to losing Alphonse, that was undeniable, and Roy wasn’t willing to assign it to luck when it was their determination and tenacity that kept Al alive.)

They were certainly the people he was closest to, but it didn’t stop him from having other friends. Ed would bicker with May as she tried to explain alkahestry to him, he’d argue with the chimeras when they took him to task for being reckless, would chat with Armstrong and Brosh and Ross and the rest of Roy’s unit. He’d help Riza with her paperwork and style her hair to keep it out of her wound when she got frustrated with it. But weirdly, it was seeing him interact with Ling that made Ed’s words click for Roy. The two teenagers got along easily and it reminded Roy of him and Hughes when they were in the academy, when they were young and naive and optimistic, before they figured out they were bonded.

It was clear then, that it was their choices that determined the outcome of their relationships and as strong as a soul bond was, it didn’t supersede the relationships they had by choice, and the ones they chose could be as strong as the ones they were fated for. 

**Author's Note:**

> I like soulmate stories but I also like the idea that it doesn't come easily and still takes work to maintain the relationship, and the idea of platonic and familial soulmates existing alongside romantic soulmates is fun.  
> I wrote most of this at three in the morning when I couldn't sleep. At some point during writing I'd drifted into present tense and I tried to fix it but if I missed a few verbs, my bad.


End file.
